Chick took the defeat smilingly, but Bert could see that he was piqued. “I’ll play you for double this time, Les,” he announced. Devore appeared to hesitate, but he finally nodded. “You’re on, Buddie,” he agreed. Chick won the second game rather handily. Apparently his adversary was not as steady a performer as Bert had believed him, for several times he fell down on shots that were not particularly difficult. His good humor, however, never deserted him; wherein he differed from Chick. Chick could be as gay as a lark while winning, but if Devore got the lead his banter ceased and he looked on in frowning, anxious silence. A miscue or a stroke of ill-luck invariably produced a word or gesture of annoyance from Chick. At such times Devore was loudly sympathetic. At the end of the second game Chick was again in high spirits. “Come on now for the rubber,” he said. “What about it? Same stakes?” “You must want to ruin me,” laughed Devore. “I’m no Millionaire Kid. I have to work for my coin. Still, I’d like to quit even, so I’ll go you, Buddie.” “You haven’t got time, Chick,” Bert protested. “It’s four after nine now.” “Oh, we’ll hurry it up this time,” Chick laughed. “It won’t take me long to beat this easy-mark!” “Remember what you agreed,” said Bert. “Nine-thirty was the limit.” “Make it twenty-five points,” Devore suggested. “I’m agreeable. I want to hit the hay early myself to-night.” Chick consented, although not very cheerfully, and the third game began. Devore won the break and cleaned the table very neatly, winning grudging admiration from Bert. Chick went well for a while, only to miss an easy shot, and Devore pocketed the remaining balls. After the next break, Devore, with the game practically won, scratched, and Chick ran seven before over-anxiety caused his Waterloo. Bert had never seen Chick so concerned about the winning of a game of pool as he was now, and he wondered. The miss had put him in a black temper, and he sat slumped in a chair while Devore expertly and almost apologetically ran out, taking the winning ball on a double bank. “Tell you what I’ll do,” exclaimed Chick impetuously. “I’ll play you just one more of twenty-five for two dollars! Come on now if you’re a sportsman! What do you say?” Devore shook his head. “No, sir, I’m through, Buddy. I know when I’m well off, see? I had luck that time, but--” “Afraid, eh?” asked Chick. “I’ll say you had luck! Come on, don’t be a quitter!” Devore smiled but shook his head again, returning his cue to its locked box. “Honest, I’ve got to beat it, Chick. So have you. I’ll play you again Monday night. How’s that?” “What time is it, anyway?” Chick looked at his watch and shrugged disappointedly. “Oh, all right. Monday night then. Better bring your horse-shoe along again, old man, for I’m going to show you some real pool! Let’s settle up.” “Outside,” said Devore. “Mooney’s sort of strict, and what he don’t know won’t hurt him.”